The Rev. Paul Hwang of the International Seafarers Center stands in the decades-old chapel for wayward seafarers. The chapel is set to be torn down in the coming weeks. (Photo by Thomas R. Cordova, Press-Telegram/SCNG)

Dick McKenna, president of the International Seafarers Center, walks down the steps of the chapel that is set to be torn down in the coming weeks. (Photo by Thomas R. Cordova, Press-Telegram/SCNG)

The Rev. Paul Hwang first walked up the steps of the International Seafarers Center of Long Beach/Los Angeles as a young pastor more than 30 years ago.

Now gray-haired, Hwang gave his last sermon Sunday at the small trailer that housed the center’s chapel for generations. Next month, it will be torn down to make room for the $1.5 billion bridge that will replace the Gerald Desmond, connecting downtown Long Beach and Terminal Island.

One icon for another.

“After so many years, I cried,” Hwang said after his final service. “There’s a lot of memories.”

Started in a trailer back in the 1970s, the roots of the International Seafarers Center of Long Beach/Los Angeles hark back to a more humble time, before the twin ports became a mammoth gateway for trade with Asia, when sea-weary men — they were mostly men — could drink on ships and computers were for an elite group of scientists and engineers.

But the chapel, as well as a chunk of the Seafarers Center’s parking area, sits on land that construction workers need to build a new off-ramp to Pico Avenue as well as a bicycle path. The new bridge is expected to be complete in late 2018.

“To a certain extent it’s the end of an era, but we are looking toward the future,” said Dick McKenna, president of the Seafarers Center and a retired Navy captain.

The organization is devoted to helping those who sail the high seas for months on end, providing them with religious refuge, a place to eat and a home away from home.

For years, Hwang has been the face of solace to Korean men and women looking for a place to worship.

Nearly every day he heads out to massive cargo ships to talk to those who have come from Asia and around the world to supply Southern California with billions of imported goods, from televisions to cars.

But over the years, the importance of the center has faded as it struggled financially, and new technology has made it easier for seamen to communicate with family at home.

At one point, the chapel’s faded and peeling facade and the center next door had to briefly shut down in 2000 until long-time worker Pat Pettit and Merry Jo Dickey helped revive it.

The center sits across the way from Orient Overseas Container Line’s terminal, where thousands of boxes are unloaded every year, and directly below the Gerald Desmond Bridge, where trucks rumble by day and night.

In spite of the bustle outside, there’s a peaceful quiet inside the chapel. The hum of the fluorescent lights could be heard during a moment of silence at the final service on a Sunday in August, when no ships with Korean crews were calling.

Only a few men and women filled the two dozen seats: the organist, Hwang’s wife and two others.

“The biggest challenge is the crew members separating from their family at home,” said Paul Chun, who attended the last service. “Sometimes they are out (at sea) for a year. The only way to communicate with the family is when they get to the port.

“There is no other church for the seamen if they want to pray or read the Bible.”

A single cross hangs over a podium where Hwang offered his sermon. The floor tiles are scuffed.

Along the wall sits a bookshelf stuffed with tiny prayer books and dusty CDs in Polish, Indonesian, Burmese, Cantonese and more than a dozen other languages spoken by the sailors who have walked through the door.

Hwang said he plans to continue services at the center’s club every Sunday and make visits to vessels, but it won’t be the same.

“It’s sad,” Chun said.

“Sometimes it’s hard, they are at sea for months. They are lonely and they are looking for a place to worship.”